Making Smiles
by Dullard
Summary: Joker can't keep his mind off of Harley, while Creeper can't keep his hands off of Joker.


_**Disclaimer:**__ This was written purely for my own sick amusement, and in no way whatsoever am I making any money off of it. Joker is the rightful property of Bob Kane and Bill Finger, while Creeper belongs to Steve Ditko. I believe DC Comics and Warner Bro's has some sort of claim on their heads as well. No copyright infringement was intended.  
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**_Warning:_**_ This chapter contains some minor and partly one-sided homosexual acts.  
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She trailed kisses up his neck with lips soft and sweet as sugar.

Her affection climbed higher and higher still, dotting across his jawline.

Reaching the curve of his cheek, she pranced across with vigor, our explorer determined and brave. ..And why shouldn't she be?

This was all familiar territory for Harley, and the Joker welcomed her advances. Perhaps not always a willing land to travel, sometimes dangerous and very close to lethal, but for the time being, Joker's body was calm and settled into the role of her own personal land of paradise. For one sleepy moment, he was content to play her sanctuary. It was anyone's guess how long it'd last. There was no telling when this ivory-skinned garden of Eden would suddenly explode once more into a violent psychopathic hell. For all anyone could tell, this could very well be nothing more than the calm before the storm. ..Still, the rain of affection never did seem to falter or cease completely.

In fact, she seemed to take a special interest in his stretched and crimson mouth. Her wet and probing tongue pleaded for entrance between his pert, crimson lips, just begging to crawl inside him and never ever leave; to become so close that they melted together into nothing more than flesh, touch, and passion. This is the scandalous heaven that the harlequin of hate would awake to every evening. As his eyes flickered open, the sensations slowly stirring him into total consciousness, even Joker himself couldn't deny his fortune that wore the skin of Harley Quinn. She of all people knew how to make some smiles, and that was exactly what she was doing right now.

"Mmm... Oh, _Harl_'..."

She offered no such reply but her- Or rather, _his_ laughter; the deep chuckling of a man.

It was a cruel and mocking laughter that made his brain itch with familiarity.

It was a laughter that was decidedly very much like his own.

Joker's eyes instantly snapped open, senses jarred violently out of their state of heightened bliss. The thick and muscular body that lay above him was certainly not the body of his pretty little harlequin. The few moments of shock he spared were spent glaring up into the yellow, crazed, and widely grinning face that hovered only mere inches above his own. Toned reflexes kicked in, and Joker dug his bony knee sharply into the other man's vulnerable belly.

The fellow man crumpled, and Joker slipped out from beneath him, catching hold of a tuft of lime green hair, swinging out and over, onto the man's back. The tuft of hair held brutally firm in his grasp, Joker straddled his attacker with the ease and skill of a professional trick rider. He slipped the jagged blade of a knife out from the cuff of his sleeve, pressing the steel against the man's pulsing jugular. A storm of tittering, frantic questions whizzed through his head, but only one made its way to his lips. He breathed into his assailant's ear, "Where's Harley?"

"Oh, I dunno.. Heh heh ..In Pammy's bed, probably."

The clown prince of crime slammed the yellow-hued psychopath's face against the bed post once, twice, three times in anger before repeating his question through gritted teeth.

The yellow skinned wacky man groaned. His shoulders slumped slightly, all sense of mirth and bemusement towards the situation drained from his now very sore form. "I'm sorry, but this channel does not supply your general celebrity gossip needs. ..Might I suggest your local paparazzi?"

This channel..?

Oh..._Creeper_...

Joker came quite close to having the fortune of forgetting about Harley's obsessive admirer. After all, the day that they met had only been one single very wild night out of many. The memory of desperately latching onto Batman for protection still stung at his pride; a shame that he could never quite forget. His grip slackened, and he allowed Creeper to crawl out from under him and bound over the end of the bed like a jackrabbit, landing comfortably between two mildly startled hyenas that lounged only a few feet away from their master's bed. The more than half naked gentleman turned around, still in his crouching 'wild man' position, to face the clown with his own trademark dopey grin. Said grin quickly melted into a frown of concern when he caught sight of the Joker's own wavering expression.

The harlequin of hate's permanent smile seemed strained somehow, faltering between a pout and a wolfish snarl. His eyes seemed glassy, and his eyebrows couldn't make up their mind between furrowing with rage or slacking with pain, sadness, complete and utter disappointment. The expression was strange; not the least bit attractive.

Now that he was fully awake, Joker recalled why Harley had seemingly disappeared. A week or so ago, he had gotten the tiniest bit rough and attempted to kill her. Oh, he didn't mean any of it, of course. They tried to kill each other all the time! It was the passion of a moment; nothing more. Besides, despite popular belief, he was rather fond of the girl. ..At least, about as fond as he could possibly be of anyone. Even then, that fondness wasn't much. There was no doubt in his mind that the alleged Poison Ivy cared for her more than he ever possibly could. Poison Ivy could give her what she needed. He could give her only what she wanted. ..But then, what about _his_ wants and needs? Joker couldn't care less about what was best for Harley when she was clearly what was best for him.

"Ohmahgosh, you actually miss her!"

Joker twitched, effectively startled and officially annoyed. He glared over his shoulder at his current very unwelcomed 'guest', having completely forgotten about the man's unfortunate presence. "What are you babbling about..? I don't miss anyone!"

Creeper inched forward just the slightest, his wide eyes and slightly agape smirk the very image of curiosity. "You miss your dolly."

Easing into a stretch, the clown prince of crime than swung his spidery legs over the side of the mattress and climbed to his feet. He regarded the deranged newscaster with a tilt of his head. He strided towards him with the ease and leisure of a lion. The hyenas yipped and squealed nervously at their master's all too calm approach. They quickly loped their way out of the room, heads low and tails between their legs like common dogs. Creeper, however, actually straightened up, even smiling wider at the other man's approach.

It was time to play a game.


End file.
